Took this image along the road on my walk yesterday. Reminded me of those prickly people you have to handle with kit-gloves, like us sometimes.
I’ve always been fascinated by stone. Something in me believes that stone is not simply dead and inanimate, but rather alive and a kind of receptacle of memory and history. In some mysterious way I think stone gathers into itself and holds within itself what has happened around it. I would often look at a mountain and ask the question, “What have you seen? What memories lie in your stone? What would you say if you could speak? I addressed these questions to the stone of this church.
There’s a strength in a tree standing alone in a landscape and expressing its own identity, but there’s also a vulnerability in its aloneness. To courageously express your identity in the landscape of life will always come with vulnerability and risk.